


Cardamom and Fennel

by brigitttt



Series: Captive Prince Kink Bingo [3]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Begging, Collars, Established Relationship, FaceFucking, M/M, Obedience, Oral Sex, POV Damen (Captive Prince), Sex Toys, Under-negotiated Kink, Valiant Efforts Towards Kink, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:11:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17511773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brigitttt/pseuds/brigitttt
Summary: Witch Laurent and Werewolf Damen try to spice up their sex life, with varying results.





	Cardamom and Fennel

**Author's Note:**

> This is unfortunately the most weird and least sexy combination of the Obedience, Collaring, Begging, and Sex Toys kink bingo squares that I could've written but that’s just . . . the way of the world, sometimes

“How sexy did you say this was gonna be, again,” Damen says with a smirk.

Laurent huffs. “Can we try it first, before you hurt yourself trying to heckle me,” he says, dangling the brown leather collar towards him again. Damen takes it from his hand.

It had been Laurent’s idea, of course. Not one to really shy away from talking about these kinds of things, he’d brought it up quite starkly one night after sex, when Damen had been too dazed to properly think of why it might be – well, not a _bad_ idea per se, but kind of a weird one. He remembers hugging onto Laurent’s torso, head resting on the pale stomach below him, legs scrunched up at the end of the bed. Laurent’s fingers had scratched through his hair to the point of mesmerizing relaxation, and then he’d announced that he wanted to see what putting a collar on Damen would do for next time. Damen had been practically asleep already and probably grumbled something unintelligible in reply, but then Laurent had mentioned it again over breakfast the day after. Damen had acquiesced; why shouldn’t they try more new things?

They hadn’t gotten to this point immediately after, either, allowing the weeks around the full moon for Damen to get restless, shift, and then settle back into his skin before Laurent had walked through the living room with a cup of tea, floating a collar along in the air behind him. Damen had only eyed it curiously and nestled deeper into the couch cushions.

Tonight’s the night, regardless. Damen can’t feel much of the moon’s pull right now, but that’s probably for the best, considering. Laurent had spent most of the day redistributing candles, reading texts, and eyeing Damen up, so whatever else he has in store for Damen should at least be somewhat planned. Probably. Damen wraps the leather around his throat and buckles it in the back. He stands up straight.

“How does that feel?” asks Laurent, eyes flicking over Damen’s bare chest before coming back to his face. He’d gotten naked when Laurent had suggested it, but Damen’s never been bothered by his own nudity before, anyways. Laurent, on the other hand, remains fully clothed.

“Like a collar, I guess” says Damen. Laurent frowns, and Damen just shrugs. “Should I get on my knees, or something?”

“Right, yes,” Laurent says. Damen sees Laurent’s blue eyes fill with black for a second as he uses his spark, and then he feels the collar cinch more snugly around his neck. Damen’s hand twitches against his thigh.

“You can – you will, um, obey me,” says Laurent, a little haltingly. Damen holds his lips together to keep from doing something rude, like laughing. Laurent reaches down to place a hand on Damen’s cheek, his thumb resting where they both know his dimple appears. “I’ll have you begging,” he adds, lowly, and Damen smiles.

Laurent smooths his hand up from Damen’s cheek to his hair, tangling it between his fingers for a moment until he grips and pulls, more fully baring Damen’s neck. It’s only a faint sensation, but something in Damen’s throat starts to rumble beyond his control.

“Damen,” says Laurent sternly. Damen tries to give him his most innocent expression. “And no speaking, either.”

“How can I beg if I can’t speak,” says Damen, and Laurent groans, bringing a hand up to his forehead.

“Nevermind, just – follow my orders,” he says, then eyes him reproachfully. “And take this seriously!” Damen bites down on the obliging grin and nods.

Laurent composes himself once more and gives Damen a meaningful look, his hand outstretched to indicate he should stay where he is. Damen licks his lip and nods again. Damen follows Laurent’s slow sway over to the big armchair, past the fireplace and mantel laden with yew cuttings and small, glass bottles of lavender and rosemary.

When he sits, Laurent stares darkly at Damen, from below his lashes, and runs both his hands down his shirt towards his hips. He quirks an eyebrow and Damen swallows thickly, his legs itching to move. Laurent still doesn’t shift his gaze, even when he undoes his trousers, and starts to stroke himself to full hardness. Damen breathes out hard through his nose to keep from scenting the air.

“Crawl. Slowly,” says Laurent, and Damen’s not quite sure he does it at the leisurely pace that Laurent wants, but he shuffles forward nonetheless, on his hands and knees. Laurent’s face is unreadable, even now from between his legs, but Damen breathes in the arousal beginning to saturate the air, and leans forward with an open mouth, his hands already up and bracing themselves on Laurent’s thighs.

Laurent catches him by the shoulder with a hand, near to where the collar is starting to dig in. “Wait, Damen –” he starts, and then seems unsure.

“Ah,” says Damen, in understanding. “Is this where I have to beg for it?”

“I,” says Laurent, caught off guard now. “Uh . . .”

“Oh, Laurent,” Damen says, nearly moaning on his name. “You look so good like this. _Please_ ,” he says, and Laurent’s eyebrows shoot skywards, his hand clenching on Damen’s shoulder. “Let me suck your dick.”

Laurent’s mouth drops open. “You’re not even –” he says, scrambling for words. Damen presses on.

“I wish you would permit me,” says Damen, angling his head with a smile towards where Laurent is still holding his own cock, breathing over it to make it twitch. “Sorry, please allow me lick you –”

“Damen!” Laurent says, high-pitched, and then sounds like he’s trying hard not to laugh. “This isn’t what I –”

“Please . . . master?” Damen peers up at him, wide-eyed. He’s making this worse. Laurent’s cheeks turn bright red.

“Let’s just – okay,” and Laurent pushes more firmly on Damen’s shoulder. He sits back on his heels easily, and looks warmly up at Laurent, who is now glaring down and away at the floor in the middle distance. Damen squeezes at the end of Laurent’s thighs, where his hands are still holding, and Laurent seems to remember himself, letting go of his flagging erection and putting both his hands over Damen’s.

“This isn’t working,” Laurent sighs. Damen’s heart breaks at the tone, with his emotions so pack-oriented like this. He searches for the right thing to say. An idea comes to him.

“What else did you plan to do?” he asks. Laurent makes a dismissive, scoffing sound and Damen can practically taste his embarrassment. He rubs his thumbs around Laurent’s knees and leans forward to kiss one through the fabric. “You can tell me,” he whispers.

Laurent looks at him out of the side of his eye. “I wanted this to work,” he admits, quietly. Damen kisses his other knee and Laurent sighs again. “I was going to make you wait, and then . . .”

Damen nods. “And then?”

Laurent doesn’t get any less flushed as he speaks but his voice does grow in confidence. “And then I was going to open you up, get the bullet vibe in you, and fuck your face.”

It’s Damen’s turn to blush. He feels his own cock twitch on his thigh. “So the collar was . . ?”

“So that I could hold onto you, yes, but I see now that it was a stupid idea. You can just take it off if you hate it that much,” says Laurent. Damen can tell how frustrated and disappointed he is in himself, but he can still fix this.

“You’re right that it doesn’t really do much for me,” he says, gesturing to the strip of leather vaguely. “Even if I can be quite the hound.” Laurent tries not to smile, and Damen rubs along his thigh in a soothing motion. “How about I keep it on while we definitely try the other stuff, and just, y’know – be ourselves about it?”

Laurent raggedly drags over his face with a hand, and after a deep breath, he seems better. 

“Yeah,” he says, but it’s much more self-assured than before. Damen smiles, and goes back up on his knees to hold Laurent for a kiss, one that they both eventually relax into.

Soon, Damen’s tongue is pushing further and further around Laurent’s mouth, tasting over his teeth and breathing in the sweet sparks of magic on his breath. There are times when Laurent is almost overflowing with his power, so much so that Damen only has to be in the house at the same time as him to feel it prickle over his neck and cheeks. It has such a heady scent, too, when he gets wound up like this; almost floral on top, but sickly dark and velvet underneath. Damen groans into the next kiss, and moves his hand to Laurent’s cock, his trousers still only barely shoved down out of the way. The warm hand he wraps around it makes Laurent’s breath stutter, and Damen’s hair frizzes slightly with static electricity.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and stroking with an even, slow rhythm. “What were you saying about that bullet vibe?”

“You mean this one?” says Laurent, and his voice must be a little breathless from the feeling of Damen’s hands still on him but suddenly he’s snapping his fingers and the vibrator appears in his palm, the cord wrapped around a finger. A bottle of lube forgoes the snazzy entrance and floats its way over from the bedroom.

“That’s convenient,” says Damen with a laugh. “ _Fuck_ , I love you.”

Laurent hums, his expression returning to something closer to smugness. He cups Damen’s cheek with one hand, smearing his thumb over Damen’s lips, and Damen can barely contain himself now. He easily turns around on his knees when Laurent pushes against his shoulder, and leans over to prop himself on an elbow, chest low and ass sticking up. He doesn’t turn his head to see the reaction, but feels a spike in the static in the air when Damen reaches back with one hand to hold himself open. Damen smiles into the carpet.

They’ve done this enough times before that he doesn’t tense when Laurent slides two slick fingers over his hole, rubbing softly around the rim before teasing the tips of them inside. The hand holding the vibrator spreads the other cheek open too, and Damen can feel Laurent lean forward. The thought that he’s getting closer for a better look at his open ass, maybe watching his own fingers sink into Damen and then drag back out makes him squirm and gasp against the floor.

Both hands pull away at the same time, leaving Damen trembling in eager anticipation, tasting the sparks emanating from Laurent and luxuriating in the weight of his own stiff cock hanging heavy between his thighs. The same low growl from his throat threatens to come out but Damen shoves it back down just before the tip of the lubed up vibrator pushes inside, and then quickly the rest of it, leaving only the long cord hanging out, Damen’s hole clenching around it.

“Turn around,” says Laurent, and Damen scrambles to do so, twitching at the shift of the toy with his movements. Laurent’s eyes have gone silky black again with his magic, and Damen sucks in a sharp breath, entranced, as he feels the vibrator nudge around inside him to find – _oh, yes_ –

It shows how distracted he is by the feeling of the toy digging in sweetly against his prostate that he doesn’t realise Laurent has the collar gripped in his hands, hauling him up to brace his upper body on Laurent’s legs. He’s directed upwards toward Laurent’s face, but then his head tilts back and Damen is staring at the pale, corded underside of his husband’s neck. His cock twitches where it’s caught on the material of the armchair, and the rumbling in his chest erupts again in earnest.

Just as he’s about to spring forward to catch his mouth on the smooth skin, he’s abruptly tugged back. ‘ _The collar,_ ’ his mind supplies, but before he can think more on it he’s being pushed down towards Laurent’s cock, propped in Laurent’s own slim hand. Damen’s lips part around the end of it instantly, but he’s being pushed down still further by the strong grip. Damen valiantly tries to relax his throat in time but the pressure on his neck lets up right before it becomes necessary. It remains just enough to know he can stop, but not pull back. Damen’s hands clench spasmodically where they’re grasping tightly onto the muscle of Laurent’s thighs. He tries to slow himself down, taking a couple loud breaths through his nose, coincidentally inhaling the strong aroma of both Laurent’s magic and his natural scent. One of the fingers on Damen’s neck strokes idly, back and forth along the wisps of Damen’s hairline.

“Did you forget about this,” Laurent whispers. Damen moans quietly around the cock in his mouth when the vibrator starts buzzing, then rubbing back and forth against his prostate when Laurent magicks it on.

Laurent’s hands pull away after, presumably to brace himself against the armchair, and then his strong hips are lifting, sliding Laurent’s cock deeper down his throat. Damen breathes shallowly through his nose and relaxes into it, grateful for the initial, slow pace, but well aware that this is only the beginning. The bullet vibe ramps up in power, pulsing inside him, and Laurent takes advantage of Damen’s distraction to begin to thrust up into Damen’s mouth more vigorously. Damen holds his head as still as possible, even moving slightly more forward each time Laurent slides further in, and the heat from the sensation against his prostate reminds him of how impossibly hard he is, precome gathering at the tip of his cock, seeping out and down along his length.

Damen can’t quite see it, from both the angle his head is being directed and the tiny tears wetting his own eyelashes from the pounding of Laurent’s cock in his throat, but he knows that Laurent’s eyes are surely pitch black with power now, if the faintly glowing blue of his spark’s aura around his body is anything to go by. Damen clenches his eyes closed and feels a twinge in his jaw when the vibrator is turned up to its highest setting, and he could wrap a hand around himself but he _can’t_ , not right now; he has to keep holding on to Laurent’s legs to keep himself from ribboning apart into thin sections of stars and the smell of the garden after the rain and the whining noises Laurent is making in the back of his throat, and Damen can’t make a sound but his stomach clenches almost to the point of agony until he finally comes, spurting against the floor.

Laurent doesn’t stop though, his hips still manically stuttering into the back of Damen’s throat, and Damen can barely feel through the haze of his orgasm and the ever-present buzz of the vibrator on a now over-stimulated point. He barely senses the lamps in the living room flicker, the flames of the lit candles flaring up with Laurent’s catalytic spark. The books on the bookshelves start humming along, the skulls on the side table beginning to rattle as well.

“Please,” says Laurent under his breath, and Damen’s body fills with urgency and obligation to help in any way possible, however he can. “ _Please,_ ” Laurent says, like a spell he’s newly learning, and Damen holds fast to Laurent as he whips his cock in and out of Damen’s throat, drool beginning to leak beyond Damen’s lips. He detaches a hand from Laurent’s thigh, and, as if wading through murky and impenetrable magnetism, Damen brings it shakily up to just underneath Laurent’s cock, the place where Damen’s lips touch briefly every time he’s forced down, pressing with his fingertips in the tight space between Laurent’s balls and the base of his shaft, hard enough for Laurent to finally let go.

Laurent groans when he releases down Damen’s throat, and half the lamp bulbs in the room burst from the pressure of Laurent’s overflowing magic. Damen tries to breathe and swallow as best he can but he has to pull off to cough, leading Laurent through with relaxed strokes of his hand while he messily wipes his mouth and chin of spit and come. Damen has the presence of mind to pull the vibrator out of himself before the weight of the magic in the room does something freaky to it like last time. He tosses it carelessly onto the carpet before collapsing onto Laurent, still kneeling on the floor but putting nearly his entire weight on Laurent’s lap, his arms wrapping around to hold Laurent by his sides.

A moment later, and a hand coaxes itself through Damen’s hair. Damen peeks up.

Laurent is sitting back fully and wearily against the cushions, and when he languidly opens his eyes, Damen is pleased to see they’re back to their normal blue. His other hand slips down to the collar buckle at the back of Damen’s neck, and starts to manually unclasp it.

“How about,” says Laurent, and then he has to clear his throat; if even _his_ voice is rough, Damen definitely shouldn’t try speaking for a while. “For next time . . .” he starts again, and Damen lets out a soft breath of a laugh, resting his head and grinning into Laurent’s stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at brigitttt (personal) and/or brigittttoo (side with writing), and newly on twitter @brigitttt_ . Comments are much appreciated, thank you for reading!


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